


Marrying Up

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-11-04 13:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17898881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Hermione witnesses the murder of Narcissa Malfoy and Lucius decides the Muggle-born witch harbors powers of influence that need to benefit the Malfoy family.EDIT: Updated to fix plot-hole. ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updated last chapter to tie-up a plot hole. XXOO

_Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad_. --[Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ](http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/h/henry_wadsworth_longfello.html)

 

**Chapter 1**

 

“Your employer?”

 

Hermione Granger scowled at Neville Longbottom. Last she’d heard, he was a Hit Wizard but he must be a failing one to be taking witness statements.

 

“You know very well I’m a Wizengamot Clerk, Neville. May I please just tell you what happened so I can get out of here?” Hermione snapped.

 

Neville’s gaze from under his brows was resigned. “Why not,” he sighed.

 

“I was in Diagon Alley,” Hermione began. And then she choked back a sob, remembering the sick feeling of witnessing murder. It was surreal. There was nothing she could have done to stop it. Hermione had buried the memories of the war with Voldemort and the deaths had blurred in her mind. She'd forgotten the dreadful feeling of helplessly watching the loss of life.

 

“It happened very quickly,” she continued, voice shaking. “I noticed Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy first – they rather catch the eye – I saw that they weren’t moving – then I saw Lucius’ cane on the ground. And then I spotted Dolohov. He was between us. His wand was pointed at them.” Hermione swallowed, fighting the bile that rose in her throat.

 

“I went deaf – I suspect fear got the better of my senses. I didn’t hear him cast anything but I saw him swish his wand and saw the spell light. I was too late... I hit him with a simple stunner and I noticed that Narcissa was on the ground and Lucius fell beside her. And then Aurors arrived...”

 

Hermione took a calming breath. She wanted no more of fighting. She made no secret that throwing herself into a job at the Ministry was her way of hiding from the world. It was unfortunate that her brief trip into Diagon Alley had placed her at the scene of Dolohov seeking revenge on the Malfoys. The witch rubbed a weary hand over her eyes.

 

“Narcissa Malfoy was murdered by Antonin Dolohov,” she said clearly.

 

Neville’s quill scratched across his parchment and Hermione looked up as two wizards approached them. Lucius Malfoy, with chained hands, was rather shoved onto the bench beside Hermione. He seemed oblivious to the rough handling. He leaned back, eyes closed.

 

Hermione frowned at Neville; “Lucius is a victim.”

 

“I gather he dueled the Aurors,” Neville muttered darkly, making short notations here and there on his parchment.

 

“Free his hands,” Hermione growled. She suspected that many a wizard would leap at the chance to duel Lucius Malfoy. Despite his family’s pledge to never again participate in Dark Arts, he was, in general, mistrusted.  

 

“He’s unarmed,” Hermione added, tone brooking no argument. She stared hard at Neville until he rolled his eyes and flicked a wand at the other wizard.

 

When the chains fell from Lucius’ wrists, he moved only to shove the ridiculously thick links to the ground.

 

“You’ll be expected to testify at Dolohov’s hearing,” Neville unnecessarily informed Hermione. “Mr. Malfoy, I’ll be back in a moment to take your statement.”

 

Hermione stood as Neville disappeared into the maze of desks and her foot grazed the chain. She picked it up, pondering the treatment Lucius Malfoy was likely to encounter while within the Ministry. Did he retain any lingering favors with officials?

 

“I’m so very sorry, Mr. Malfoy,” she whispered.

 

Lucius’ eyes cracked open and his pale irises fixed on her. He said nothing but his jaw muscles bunched and he closed his eyes once more. Hermione wondered if he was hiding his grief. It would be like a Slytherin to mask their emotions when held prisoner by the enemy.

 

Much to Harry’s dismay, Ginny was an Auror. She’d given Hermione a bit of a tour only days ago and Hermione knew where to find the employee kitchen. She walked there, unchallenged, and helped herself to a cup of tea. Hermione carried the steaming mug carefully through the tangle of desks and harried Aurors back to the wizard. Lucius hadn’t moved.

 

He twitched when Hermione touched his hand. She meant not to startle him and apologized. She pressed the warm mug into his palm.  

 

“Would you like me to stay with you?”

 

Lucius took the mug and Hermione noticed that his hands were cold when his fingers brushed hers. He was in shock, then.

 

“No,” he said, sitting up to hold the tea properly.

 

“Is there anything I can do?” she offered, at a loss. She didn’t want to abandon the wizard. It was said that Draco disappeared immediately after Voldemort’s fall and the Malfoys had searched widely for him. Now, Narcissa was dead and Lucius, literally, had no one.

 

In an unexpected gesture, Lucius grabbed Hermione’s arm. His fingers wove tightly into her sleeve and he pulled her close. For one split-second, Hermione wondered if he was going to hurt her. But, his gaze was sincere in the seemingly-emotionless mask of his face.

 

“Thank you,” he hissed quietly. He did not wish to be overheard.

 

Lucius released her robes and Hermione nodded, choked-up, again. The situation was fraught with potential for him to end up back in Azkaban. She forced herself to walk away; her help was not wanted. In the middle of the desks, Hermione ran into Neville.

 

When Neville would have passed without more than a nod, Hermione grabbed his sleeve much the way that Lucius had caught hers.

 

“His son’s gone and now he’s just lost his wife,” she said in a low tone. “You understand loss.”

 

Neville stared at her for a moment as the chaos of the Auror office bustled about them.

 

“He’s not in trouble,” Neville finally said. Hermione shot a last glance at Lucius Malfoy. He was watching them through slitted eyes. Hermione turned, graced Neville’s cheek with a kiss, and went on her way.


	2. Chapter 2

_Emotions aren't the obstacles to a successful negotiation; they are the means._

_\--Christopher Voss_

 

**Chapter 2**

 

Hermione turned her face towards the afternoon sun. The days had already shortened and sunshine would soon be scarce as fall drew near. The Three Broomsticks would pack away the café-style tables and chairs set out just for the warmer season and Hermione was determined to enjoy the last of the year’s sultry days.

 

Sipping a cherry soda, Hermione glanced up when a shadow fell across her.

 

“Mr. Malfoy,” she greeted, gesturing for him to take the empty seat at her table.

 

“Thank you for meeting me,” the wizard replied, glancing at the closest occupied table and appearing to dismiss it.

 

“But, of course,” Hermione replied. She only just stopped herself from asking after his wellbeing. He’d been a widower only a couple of months and she didn’t want to be insensitive.

 

She settled for, “You look well, Mr. Malfoy.”

 

“Lucius, please.”

 

“Alright, Lucius. Then you must call me Hermione.”

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes to espy Rosmerta get a look at her companion and then hurry back into the pub. Lucius Malfoy would receive no service, here.

 

“My letter was purposefully vague.”

 

“Yes?” Hermione prompted conversationally.

 

“I have a proposal for you.”

 

“A proposal,” Hermione echoed, reaching for her soda.

 

“I’ve come to offer terms for your hand in marriage to Draco.”

 

Hermione choked on her soda and tried to reign in her cough. Lucius’ gaze was politely cast on the table as she composed herself.

 

“You want me to marry Draco! Why would I do that?” Hermione’s mind was spinning. Of every possible scenario she could imagine for Lucius Malfoy to seek a meeting with her, none of them included marrying her to his son.

 

“To secure the future of your family for generations to come,” Lucius replied with a casual shrug.

 

“You want me to join your family,” Hermione breathed, staring at the wizard in bemusement.

 

“Why, yes.”

 

Hermione leaned forward, “This isn’t gratitude, is it?”

 

“Gratitude for..?”

 

Hermione met Lucius’ pale gaze and sat back. She had no wish to dredge up Narcissa’s murder or the Ministry’s handling of Lucius afterwards.

 

“Taking my name assures you an elevated position in wizarding society,” Lucius continued.

 

Why on earth did Lucius think she gave a fig about wizarding society?

 

“ _Your_ name?” Hermione clarified, mystified by the wizard seated with her. She could only presume he felt some need to repay her though she couldn’t imagine marriage to his heir at all the equivalent of a cup of tea.

 

“Malfoy. It is my name, as well as Draco’s,”

 

“And what does Draco say about this..?”

 

“He agrees with me.”

 

 _Doubt that_. “I thought he was missing.”

 

“I know his location,” Lucius replied.

 

Silence fell for a moment while Hermione examined Lucius. What in Merlin’s name drove Lucius to make such an offer? Was he attempting to manipulate something from her?

 

“Lucius, why do you think wizarding society matters to me?”

 

Lucius’ gaze turned considering. “Perhaps you’re unaware of the benefits.”

 

Stymied that Lucius would attempt to entice her with something that held no interest for her, Hermione could only frown. “Perhaps.”

 

“And there are my resources. _Endless_ resources. You may fund research… Donate to charities…”

 

Hermione noticed his proprietary language, once more. He might have been negotiating for his son but he was offering _his_ assets, _his_ name.

 

“And _Draco_ wants this.”

 

“Draco is in agreement,” Lucius repeated, frown lines forming on his brow.

 

After another silence, Lucius grudgingly admitted, “He may have needed some convincing.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but grin at his revelation but she couldn’t logic-out his offer at all. “Why me, Lucius?”

 

His heavily-lidded eyes closed for a moment before opening to fix on her, eerily unguarded.

 

“Because you showed me kindness, sparing me from potentially horrific consequences, and it’s the very least I can offer.”

 

Hermione was speechless, at least for a moment.

 

Finally, she replied. “I’ll consider your offer.”

 

“When may I expect your reply?” the wizard asked.

 

“May speak to Draco about this?” Hermione countered.

 

“If you insist but you need never see him except for the ceremony. This arrangement will all be on paper. A substantially-stocked vault will be placed in your name.”

 

“Lucius-”

 

“And a Malfoy property set aside for your exclusive use. Something in Italy, perhaps?”

 

“Lucius…” Hermione said again. She blinked at him, utterly baffled. “Are you under the impression that you owe me some debt?” she asked.

 

“Not precisely. You’ve behaved in a manner that I do not know how to repay.”

 

“‘Thank you’ is enough,” Hermione said softly.

 

“Not for me,” was the low, clipped reply.

 

It was then Hermione spotted it. Lucius was offering her what mattered most in his life: a place in his family. He knew no other way. She was moved and looked at him in a new light. For another silent moment, they stared at one another.

 

“I’m deeply flattered, Lucius,” Hermione began.

 

“Consider before you refuse,” Lucius tactfully interrupted.

 

“I shall,” Hermione promised. She would certainly do no less.

 

“I have one last paltry offer. The family seat on the Wizengamot.”

 

Had she heard him right? A _seat on the Wizengamot_? She would get to rub shoulders with the crusty blowhards who ordered her about like a house-elf? Oh, Lucius knew exactly what he was doing, the cunning wizard. Now, Hermione would seriously consider the idea.

 

“Accept in twenty-four hours and the seat is yours,” he purred, eyes glinting with the knowledge that she wanted it.

 

Lucius stood and Hermione followed suit to see him off. There was a moment of confusion as he reached for her hand and she stepped close to buss his cheek. Hermione was enveloped by his masculine scent and his hand seemed to swallow hers. His fingers were warm and tightened gently around her wrist.

 

Heart thumping at their sudden intimate proximity, Hermione grinned and leaned up on her toes. Right hand still grasped by Lucius’, her left palm pressed against his chest to keep her balance, Hermione touched her lips to his cheek. He was clean shaven but a fine growth of stubble brushed her lips. Again, she was struck by his warmth. Lucius Malfoy was not someone she associated with warmth. It seemed she needed to rethink all her opinions of the wizard.

 

“Good bye, Mr. Malfoy – Lucius,” she said in a hushed, breathy voice.

 

“Ms. Granger - Hermione,” Lucius replied, lifting her hand to his lips.

 

Attraction slipped through her as she met his pale gaze. Unless she was mistaken, Lucius felt something, as well. However, as if shaken by it, he suddenly released her hand and stiffly walked away.

 

Hermione admired the wizard as he strolled towards an Apparition point. He was determinedly clad in black robes despite the late summer heat, his distinctive blond hair glowing white in the sun.

 

Why was he set on her marrying Draco?


	3. Chapter 3

_History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again._

\--Maya Angelou

 

**Chapter 3**

 

It wasn’t until the engagement party that Hermione realized the crippling enormity of the decision she’d made by agreeing to Lucius’ proposal.

 

She stood in the suite of rooms Lucius had given her, nervously running her hands down the red, satin robes.

 

“Simply stunning, my dear,” the mirror cooed.

 

Hermione gave an absentminded grin of thanks. She was attempting to steady her hands and justify her promise to marry Draco Malfoy. She would, undoubtedly, be drowned by friends’ questions. Of course, it was possible they would not attend, scandalized by her choice.

 

As Hermione descended the grand staircase, she reminded herself that Draco wouldn’t be there and the guests, few. Her feet carried her numbly towards French doors that let into the garden where she was greeted by the house-elfs. The content creatures assured her that everything was prepared as she’d asked and informed her that Master Lucius was at the garden path, ready to receive guests.

 

Mind fuzzy, as though in a dream, Hermione made her way towards Lucius. She could tell, before he even turned, that he was dressed meticulously, as was his wont. His long hair spilled like liquid silver between his broad shoulders. If Hermione wasn’t fretting about the behavior of their impending guests, she might have taken more time to enjoy the fine picture the wizard made against the starlit sky.

 

As Hermione joined Lucius, he turned towards her and she saw his glance fill with male approval. But, before he spoke a word, the crack of Apparition sounded. Guests Apparated one after another for the next twenty minutes and Hermione and Lucius greeted them.

 

Neville had Pansy with him and was quite cordial but didn’t hide his quizzical examination of Hermione while Pansy hugged her. He was too polite to demand an explanation. Pansy, on the other hand, hissed that she wanted a private word with Hermione as soon as she could get a moment away from playing hostess.

 

When Harry and Ginny arrived, Hermione took a deep breath. She caught Lucius’ glance but he said nothing.

 

“Hermione! It’s so good to see you,” Ginny gushed, an obvious crease of concern between her brows. Harry’s green eyes were thoughtfully narrowed at her over his wife’s shoulder.

 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hermione said, forcing a smile.

 

Harry wrapped Hermione in a silent hug.

 

“This is a _small_ party?” Hermione teased Lucius, taking in the breadth of guests socializing throughout the garden.

 

Lucius graced Hermione with a rare curl of his lips and gestured for her to precede him down the three steps transitioning the path to the garden’s pebbled walkways. Black-clothed tables floated slowly along the walks, allowing guests to pluck a cup of punch, wine, or delectable canape.

 

A gentle touch on her elbow told Hermione that Lucius was parting from her. She couldn’t help but glance after him.

 

As if they’d been waiting until she was alone, Hermione was suddenly surrounded by her friends. Ginny was the first to speak.

 

“If I wasn’t here, witnessing it, I wouldn’t believe it,” she said, mouth a thin line.

 

“Yes, I understand,” Hermione replied, glancing from one concerned face to another. Neville was reserved but Harry and Pansy were shrewd, as if considering applying Occlumancy.

 

“Look, it’s a business arrangement. You didn’t think this was a love match, did you?” Hermione added with a huff.

 

“A ‘business arrangement?’” Neville repeated as though the idea was preposterous.

 

“Where is Draco?” Pansy purred with narrowed eyes.

 

“He was too ill to travel in for the party,” Hermione explained, wishing the wine table would float near.

 

“What could be worth marrying Draco Malfoy?” Ginny asked softly.

 

Hermione met her friend’s gaze and felt the fight leave her. Clearly, Ginny believed that she was making a colossal mistake.

 

“Hang on. Draco’s agreed to a marriage _arranged by his father_?” Pansy asked, tone dripping with disbelief.

 

“He has,” Hermione answered, unhappy to be put on the spot. “I need a drink,” she huffed.

 

“I’ll get it,” Neville offered gruffly.

 

“Get me one, too. Will you, Harry?” Ginny asked, nodding for her husband to follow Neville.

 

“Nicely done, Gin” Pansy grinned, tucking one of Hermione’s arms in hers as Ginny took the other. “Now, we’re alone.”

 

“I’ve already said it’s an arrangement,” Hermione muttered.

 

“Last I heard from Draco, he wanted nothing to do with his father much less any plans he might come up with,” Pansy drawled.

 

“Hermione, I trust your judgement. But I cannot believe you’re committing yourself to a wizard – _for life_ \- in some bargain,” Ginny ranted, voice already a high pitch.

 

“I’ll take a contract over the treachery of emotion any day,” Hermione replied softly. “Pansy, I don’t know what has passed between Draco and his father. Lucius assured me the marriage is all for show and I need never see Draco after the wedding night.”

 

Pansy gave a mirthless laugh. “Lucius is nothing if not thorough.

 

“He’s written _that_ into your contract?” Ginny hissed, scandalized.

 

Face warm at skimming near the idea that she must consummate her marriage, Hermione’s gaze sought and found Lucius. He stood with an older wizard and appeared to be chatting amiably. For some reason, she filled with mischief; “And, I agreed to it.”

 

“Here you go, Hermione,” Neville announced, offering her a cup of wine.

 

“Pardon me, ladies. I want a moment with Hermione,” Harry said.

 

Once Pansy and Ginny took Neville’s arms and wandered away, Hermione sipped deeply from her cup. She faced Harry and gave him a smile.

 

“You don’t need to worry about me, Harry.”

 

“Maybe not but I still do,” he said but matched her grin with one of his own.

 

“It’s like I told the girls, Harry. This is all business.”

 

“Is it?”

 

Hermione laughed, “Of course it is. You wouldn’t believe what Lucius has promised…”

 

“‘ _Lucius_ ,’ huh?”

 

Hermione glanced at Harry but didn’t let him distract her. What was strange about her calling Lucius by his name?

 

“He’s giving me the family seat on the Wizengamot, Harry.”

 

“You _remember_ Draco, don’t you? Tortured you at every opportunity?”

 

Hermione frowned. “Yes, I do.”

 

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Harry began.

 

Hermione fixed her best friend with a steely glare.

 

“What about love, Hermione?”

 

“What about it?” she asked, tossing back the rest of her wine.

 

When Harry didn’t reply, she glanced at him and burned with quick anger. She knew precisely what he was thinking.

 

“Don’t you mention his name, Harry Potter. I will curse you seven ways to Sunday,” she growled.

 

“Broken hearts mend, Hermione,” he said softly. “I hate to see you give up on love because you think you won’t feel it, again.”

 

Hermione’s ire deflated as quickly as it had risen. Harry thought he was helping her. Ron hadn’t just broken her heart, he’d stabbed it a few times, filled it with self-doubt, and then shattered it. In other words, he’d separated her from her friends and convinced her she was imagining things while cheating on her with a handful of witches. Then, the utter idiot got caught with some witch in Hermione’s flat. ‘Idiot’ didn’t begin to cover the uselessness of his brain.

 

“I may never trust a man or wizard with my heart, again,” she replied. Hermione hadn’t meant to speak the thought aloud but it tumbled from her lips with bitter strength.

 

“I care about you,” Harry offered, placing his hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

 

“Except you, of course, Harry,” Hermione grinned. She wanted to lighten the mood. It was her engagement party, after all.

 

“If you ever need help or somewhere safe, you find me.”

 

Hermione nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. The evening had deepened, bringing a chill with it.

 

Pansy, Ginny, and Neville were walking towards her and Harry when the warmth of a heavy cloak settled across Hermione’s shoulders. She gave a sigh of relief and turned in time to see Lucius already rejoining his older friend.

 

“Someone’s keeping a close eye on you,” Pansy hissed in Hermione’s ear.


	4. Chapter 4

_True friendship is when two friends can walk in opposite directions, yet remain side by side._

\-- Josh Grayson

 

 

**Chapter 4**

 

Pansy gave a low whistle as she followed Hermione into her sitting room.

 

“I should have married Draco when I had the chance,” she purred.

 

“It’s a bit much,” Hermione replied. Gold-gilded trim would not be on her list of choice décor. She could practically hear Pansy roll her eyes.

 

“Wine?”

 

“And keep it coming,” Pansy replied, unceremoniously dropping into an overstuffed chair. “When did you finally move in?”

 

“Nearly a month ago,” Hermione said, surprised herself.

 

She flicked her wand, using magic to tug the bell pull. A house-elf appeared immediately.

 

“A bottle – _two_ bottles of red, please, Chirry,” Hermione corrected herself. An evening of girl talk required more than one bottle.

 

“Yes, Mistress,” the little creature squeaked, bowed, and disappeared.

 

“‘Mistress?’”

 

Hermione felt a little warmth fill her cheeks.

 

“Ooh, there’s a story, already. Spill!”

 

“It’s nothing. Lucius told the house-elfs to call me that… To prepare my favorite meals… And provide me with everything I need.”

 

“That is hardly nothing, dear.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help her smile; “He’s… not what I expected.”

 

A knock sounded before Chirry bustled into the room bearing a tray with two bottles and two glasses. She set it neatly on the table between Hermione and Pansy.

 

“Anything else, Mistress?”

 

“Thank you, no, Chirry.”

 

The house-elf left, bowing.

 

“How is life with your future father-in-law..?”

 

Hermione met Pansy’s knowing gaze and couldn’t fight the flush that crawled up her neck.

 

“It’s lovely…” she replied in a hushed tone, following Pansy’s lead and settling into an overstuffed chair.

 

Brimming wine glasses floated to each of them. Hermione sipped deep.

 

“Do you spend much time together?”

 

“On occasion, I see him at breakfast but it’s in the library we see one another most often. I find him there nearly every evening, reading the paper…”

 

Pansy watched her closely and sipped the wine.

 

“Reading,” the other witch prompted, unsatisfied.

 

Hermione wondered how the witch knew there was more to know and smiled.

 

“He wears reading glasses,” she explained softly, eyes misty as she remembered discovering the fact. “He takes them off when I join him…” she chuckled.

 

“How endearing,” Pansy sneered.

 

Hermione laughed. Yes, it was endearing.

 

“A couple of weeks ago, I beat him to the ‘Prophet’ and he asked me what their latest lies were. I made up something ridiculous… It’s become our habit, making up ridiculous headlines.”

 

“Yeah?” Pansy asked with a curled lip.

 

Hermione chuckled again. Pansy may have been showing disgust but Hermione knew her to be a romantic, at heart.

 

“It’s something to hear him laugh,” Hermione added. After allowing herself to relive the hair-raising delight of Lucius’ deep chuckle, Hermione shook her head.

 

“Enough of this. How’s life with Neville?”

 

“It’s lovely, too. But you’re not getting out of this, Hermione Granger. You’re in love with Lucius and, I suspect, he’s in love with you.”

 

Hermione studied her empty glass. It wasn’t a new idea. “You’re more certain than I.”

 

“I saw him cover you in his cloak the other night.”

 

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. It was a thoughtful gesture.

 

“I wonder if he means to keep you for himself…”

 

Pansy seemed to be giving voice to Hermione’s suspicions.

 

“I believe he intends me to marry Draco. If not, why wouldn’t he simply have asked me, himself?”

 

“I don’t know, Hermione. Why wouldn’t old-as-her-father, Lucius Malfoy, pure-blood, wealthy, aristocrat, ask a young, Muggle-born witch to marry him?”

 

Hermione gave a nonchalant shrug and summoned the wine bottle. She directed it to empty its contents into Pansy’s glass and opened the second one.

 

“Lucius does not strike me as insecure,” she murmured, feeling her mind swim under the influence of the alcohol.

 

Pansy’s laughter pealed through the room. “Have you just met the Malfoys?” she demanded. “Of course they’re insecure. What do you suppose is hiding behind their snobbishness?”

 

“Snobbishness,” Hermione repeated, testing her ability to form words. “Did I say that right?”

 

Pansy responded with another bout of ringing laughter.

 

“I dare you to hit on him,” Pansy goaded, emptying her glass.

 

“I’m not _sixteen_ ,” Hermione giggled and rolled her eyes.

 

“Be right back,” Pansy announced and stumbled towards the loo.

 

Hermione noticed that the room was darkening and lit the fire and turned on a couple of lamps.

 

Pansy’s gaze went soft when she reappeared and espied the fireplace.

 

“I want Neville,” she said.

 

“He’ll be delighted,” Hermione replied. “Use the Floo.”

 

Pansy winked. “Yes, rather not splinch myself.”

 

“Owl me tomorrow,” Hermione insisted.

 

“Will do. You, go find Lucius and do something I would do.”

 

Hermione laughed as Pansy disappeared in green flames.

 

Hermione tidied her room, gathering empty glasses and bottles. She doused herself with a purification spell that evaporated most of the alcohol from her bloodstream and levitated the tray down to the Manor’s kitchen.

 

The hour was not late but Hermione found the kitchen dark and empty. She pulled a bottle of wine from the nearby rack and squinted at its label. It might help her quiet the lurid thoughts Pansy had set to racing around her mind.

 

“This is a better year…”

 

“Lucius! You scared me…” she hissed, clutching her silk dressing robe closed.

 

After a heartbeat, she pulled out a stool to sit beside him at the prep table. Lucius poured her a generous glass.

 

Hermione couldn’t think of a thing to say and after a bit, the idea of a conversation became ridiculous. They sipped from their glasses in silence, eyes meeting occasionally. Want stirred in Hermione’s gut as the bottle emptied. Was it her imagination that desire was echoed in Lucius’ gaze? Hermione noticed his thick fingers idly turning his wineglass by its base and couldn’t resist the urge to touch him.

 

She had time to smile at how small her fingers looked against his before he jerked away from her. His glass fell, bouncing once before cracking.

 

The wizard stood, glaring at her and magnificent in his long, black dressing robe. Hermione’s eyes widened to espy his obvious physical reaction.

 

“Lucius,” she breathed, laden with want as he strode quickly from the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

_The truth is rarely pure and never simple._

\--Oscar Wilde

 

**Chapter 5**

 

Two whirlwind months of negotiating, wedding plans, and domestic life confirmed Hermione’s suspicions: it was Lucius whom she was marrying, not Draco. What else was she to assume, not having laid eyes on the younger Malfoy once throughout the ordeal?

 

“Lucius,” Hermione greeted, announcing her entrance into the library. It was her favorite place to find the wizard in the evenings. He wore glasses to read and she found the sight utterly humanizing on him, particularly because he removed them the moment he spotted her and did not put them back on until she left him.

 

“Still awake?” Lucius asked, plucking the spectacles from his nose.

 

“As are you,” Hermione replied, repressing a smile as she dropped into the chair beside him.

 

“Nerves?” he asked with a lift of his brow.

 

“We need to revisit the contract,” Hermione proclaimed.

 

“ _What_?”

 

The ire with which Lucius fixed his gaze on Hermione almost made her change her mind. But, she reminded herself that she would not sign it unless Lucius agreed to replace Draco’s name with his own.

 

“ _The wedding is tomorrow, Hermione_ ,” Lucius growled.

 

Determined not to be intimidated, Hermione continued. “Thus the importance of discussing it _now_.”

 

Peering at her with annoyance Lucius gave his wand a vicious flick and a scroll flew from his desk straight into his hands.

 

“Which section do you care to reexamine?”

 

Hermione didn’t repress her grin as his glasses reappeared and he unfurled the scroll. She held her breath a moment, building up the courage to say it. She took too long and Lucius peered curiously at her over the rims.

 

“Well?”

 

“His name,” she whispered.

 

Both of Lucius brows lifted and then came together as he frowned. “Draco’s name?”

 

“Yes. Draco’s name needs to be replaced with yours.”

 

Hermione stared hard at Lucius, daring him to negate what she felt in her bones. He wanted her.

 

Scowling, Lucius slowly rolled the parchment then removed his glasses once more.

 

“Are you under some spell?” he asked in a deceptively light tone.

 

Recognizing this tone as the one he reserved for anger, Hermione swallowed.

 

“No,” she whispered.

 

“Do you understand that you’re marrying _Draco_ tomorrow?”

 

“But, Lucius, I haven’t seen him once.”

 

Lucius stood and Hermione saw by the firelight that his hands were fisted.

 

“My son is quite aware of his familial obligations. He will arrive before the ceremony.”

 

Hermione stood, following Lucius.

 

“Lucius, the wedding is tomorrow.”

 

“As I’ve said,” he bit.

 

“It’s time to set all to rights.”

 

“Are you breaking our agreement..?” Lucius asked, taking a backward step away from Hermione.

 

“Lucius!” she chided.

 

“What is this, Hermione? Do you want to change the contract’s terms or not?”

 

Hermione heard the tremor in his voice. She was reaching him!

 

“Yes, I want to change the contract’s terms. Your name in place of Draco’s.”

 

“What is this madness?” he demanded. “You’re marrying Draco.”

 

“Lucius, stop this. I know you feel it… Whatever this is between us.”

 

Hermione took steps to close the distance between them but Lucius would have none of it. He moved to stand behind his desk.

 

“I assure you, there are no _feelings_ between us.”

 

It was the way he hissed ‘feelings’ that stalled Hermione. Was it possible she had imagined all of their interactions to convey more than they actually did? Was it possible that what she thought to be his flirting was simply kindness?

 

“Lucius,” she said, pleading that she wasn’t wrong, that he felt something for her.

 

“Ms. Granger,” he icily replied.

 

That did it. He was distancing himself by using her last name. Her heart skittered to a stop and turned to solid glass. She’d been so certain…

 

“If you care anything for me…” Hermione breathed.

 

An emotionless mask had fallen across Lucius’ features; she would be able to discern nothing more from him.

 

“My only _care_ is that you follow through with tomorrow’s event as we have spent a significant amount of time planning it, Ms. Granger.”

 

A crack slowly spiderwebbed across the surface of her glass heart, accompanied by shallow stabs of pain.

 

“I suggest you get some rest,” he added in a clipped tone; a tone that sent her blindly seeking the privacy of her rooms.

 

With numb limbs, she fell onto her bed. Chirry appeared but Hermione, in her anguish, couldn’t understand the house-elf and waved her away.

 

How could he deny it? How had Lucius shared the same moments with her but be left with no attachment? Was Hermione suffering delusions of affection? Was it possible that she, out of desperate loneliness, had imagined their moments to mean more than they did?

 

Sleep borne of mental exhaustion and a need for temporary escape claimed Hermione.

 

Upon waking, Hermione remained in bed for almost an hour, blinking at the sunlight filtering through the curtains. Rest had allowed her muddled thoughts to reorganize and she focused on why she’d agreed to the arrangement in the first place: the Wizengamot seat.

 

Pride still convinced Hermione that a sham marriage was worth the seat.

 

Hermione summoned Chirry to fetch breakfast and spent the morning hiding in her rooms, brewing a Calming Potion.

 

The Italian villa and a monthly payment would be transferred to Hermione upon the fulfilment of the contract: her marriage to Draco. She need only say a few words and thwart nullification of the contract with sex; then, she could disappear from Britain. Simple.

 

“Simple,” she muttered, drowning any thoughts of a life with Lucius Malfoy in a steaming, Calming Potion bath.

 

Chirry provided a warmed, fluffy towel for Hermione when she finally exited the tub. Serene under the draught’s sway, Hermione automatically prepared for her wedding. She dried, brushed, and tamed her hair into large ringlets to cascade down her back. Makeup, she applied lightly before stepping into the simple cream-colored dress robes.

 

It would be wonderful to sit as an equal on the Wizengamot, Hermione reminded herself. She shook her head when Chirry offered her wine and cheese. Eating, not to mention drinking, might have disastrous results. Hermione would not risk spoiling the effects of the potion.

 

Chirry led Hermione to the west sitting room. Hermione closed her eyes and focused on her goal. The chatter of voices reached her from the garden. The wedding was to take place in the Malfoy garden. Unbidden, Hermione recalled the vision of Lucius in starlight, his hair like starlight, itself, and his pale eyes glowing at her. She gasped and popped her eyes open. It would do her no good to think of him. Anxious to get the ceremony going, she climbed onto a chair to peer out of the room’s high window.

 

Every seat was occupied and Hermione shook her head to see a couple of people standing. She smiled. Had Lucius allowed a few uninvited guests to attend? The limited number of chairs had been one of their more heated discussions. Her gaze sought his unique hair. Draco was there; shaking someone’s hand. Where was Lucius? Distressed, Hermione wondered if their disagreement the night before had chased him away. She got down from the chair and sucked in a couple of deep breaths. 

 

When Chirry reappeared, Hermione was tension, personified.

 

“Is Mistress ready?”

 

Hermione nodded and followed the house-elf into the corridor.

 

The ceremony was a blur. Hermione went through the motions as if watching herself from the outside. The promise to love, honor, and protect Draco as her husband tumbled boldly from her lips, mirrored by his own promise. His hands trembled as he slid the white gold band onto her finger. For some reason, it made Hermione feel better to know she wasn’t alone in her nervousness.

 

There was no party scheduled for after the wedding; Hermione had adamantly refused to attempt a mockery of bliss. She wanted the ceremony sweet and the afterwards, short.

 

~*~

 

“I – I can’t do this, Draco,” Hermione admitted. She sat on his bed, unable to remove her dress robes.

 

“Why not?” he asked, already shorn of his black over robe.

 

“I’ve made a mistake. I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with someone else…”

 

“This isn’t about love. It’s business.” The wizard was reassuringly matter-of-fact as he plucked at his cufflinks.

 

“Yes, but I can’t take this step.”

 

Draco’s grey eyes flashed with annoyance. “This is an _essential_ ‘step,’”

 

“I understand but that doesn’t mean I can…perform,” Hermione attempted to explain.

 

“I – we – my father went to great lengths, offered you much, to see this through,” Draco scowled, finally realizing that Hermione had made no movement towards disrobing.

 

“I know,” Hermione’s throat went tight thinking of Lucius. She turned her face as tears began to slip down her cheeks. It was only Lucius she wanted, the Wizengamot seat be damned. And the villa in Tuscany. A hysterical giggle escaped her at the idea that Lucius thought she cared anything for the wealth he’d offered her.

 

“Damn him!” she exclaimed, standing and swiping angrily at the tears on her face.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To find your father.”

 

“Uh, he’s gone,” he called after her.

 

Hermione came to a stop in the corridor and hung her head. She leaned against the wall for a moment but couldn’t seem to collect herself. She’d allowed it all to happen. She slid to the floor, wallowing in heartbreak. She cast a numbing charm on herself, well-aware that one of the side-effects was light-headedness.

 

“This is all my fault. I let this happen.”

 

Draco knelt beside her.

 

“I agreed to marry you – ridiculous offer Lucius made,” she burbled.

 

“Was it?”

 

“And I believed his kindness meant more than it did and allowed my idiot heart to attach itself to him.”

 

“What?” Draco asked sharply. He was stricken.

 

“And worst of all, I went through with the ceremony out of anger…”

 

“Hermione… Do you mean to say you _love_ my – my father?”

 

“Not so smart, after all...” Hermione muttered, barely aware of Draco puling her to her feet and guiding her to her rooms.

 

“Mistress!” Chirry squeaked, rousing Hermione.

 

Why was she in her rooms? Where had Draco gone? She squeezed her eyes shut. The charm had worn off. Grief welled in her chest and spread to her limbs.

 

“Master Lucius asks for you,” Chirry said, anxiously twisting her tea towel dress.

 

Heart in her throat, Hermione scrambled from bed and began summoning her belongings. Trunk, books, robes…

 

“Master wishes to see you,” Chirry repeated in a higher pitched squeak.

 

“No, Chirry. I’m leaving. Please, tell Lucius I’m sorry. I’ll send him an owl.”

 

Her hand was on the front door when his voice stopped her.

 

“Won’t you reconsider?”

 

“No, I can’t,” she whispered, unable to look at him.

 

“I was unaware that your heart is elsewhere…”

 

He sounded closer. Suddenly, Hermione’s pain became fury and the source of her anguish was moving towards her. She dropped everything and spun to march up to the proper bastard. Before she knew it, she had him backed up to the wall.

 

“It’s with you, you big idiot. I’ve lost my heart to you but I married your son. I’ve made a ridiculous mistake and you don’t want me.”

 

“You think I don’t want you?”

 

Hermione frowned, recalling the night in the kitchen. No. She thought he did but rejected her, regardless. She gently settled her hand on his cheek and Lucius closed his eyes as if pained.

 

“You married me to your son,” she whispered, utterly distraught.

 

His grey eyes popped open; “No,”

 

“It happened. I was there. Like a giant knob, I went through with it because I was so angry with you.”

 

Lucius lips twitched; “It was me.”

 

Hermione tilted her head. What? How? “Polyjuice..?” she breathed, mouth suddenly dry and heart, thumping.

 

Lucius summoned an all-too-familiar scroll from the very air and unrolled it. A tap of his wand on the parchment caused Draco’s name and signature to fade to be replaced with Lucius’.

 

“You _tricked_ me?”

 

“I wanted you here, no matter the circumstances,” Lucius hissed. His arms slid around Hermione’s back, pulling her close.

 

“I would have stayed for you, Lucius,” she confessed, breathless with want. “I begged you to change it last night.”

 

“I couldn’t believe…” His voice was hoarse and he paused for a moment. “I didn’t believe that you _love_ me.”

 

Unable to help herself, Hermione leaned up and pressed her lips to his. Lucius responded, deepening their kiss.


End file.
